


Meant To Be

by foxfire60441



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 00:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14124495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxfire60441/pseuds/foxfire60441
Summary: Brittany and Santana were always meant to be.





	Meant To Be

Brittany Pierce kneels in the dirt of the playground, teeth biting into her lip as she concentrates on changing her Barbie's shoes. "There," she mumbles in satisfaction as she gets the cumbersome bright pink sneaker onto the plastic foot. "Got it!" she announces triumphantly, holding the doll aloft.

"Hmmm?" Santana Lopez mumbles distractedly, whilst moving her He-Man figurine across a clump of grass inches from her friend's knee. She glances up and sees Brittany's beaming smile, causing her to automatically smile back, dimples in her puffy cheeks on full display. "Hey, B, you did it! Good job."

"Thanks, San," Brittany replies happily, as she begins to attempt to braid Barbie's hair. It's difficult to do, as there's not a whole lot of it and Barbie's head is pretty small - like way small, now that the little blonde thinks about it, her fingers clumsily fumbling around. "So, Heather babysat me last night and she let me stay up past my bedtime to watch a movie with her. I mean, I kinda fell asleep during it, but she didn't make me go to bed early like usual. It was so awesome!"

Heather is Brittany's older sister, who at 13 seems much wiser and mature to someone who's five. 

"That's cool," Santana admits, reaching up to scratch her chin and inadvertently smearing dirt on her face. Brittany giggles and leans over to brush it off her face, and her best friend huffs momentarily but allows it. The little Latina was always getting dirty and rough-housing with other kids during their kindergarten recess, and the blonde was forever dusting her off and pressing wet paper towels to her injuries. That's what best friends did, after all. 

"The people in the movie got married, and it looked neat," Brittany continues.

The brunette drops her action figure and studies the blonde briefly. "Married? You mean like old people do? Sounds boring to me."

"Well, that's what my mommy and daddy did, they got married. And so did your mami and papi. I think it means that you promise to spend the rest of your life with someone and share your toys and snacks with them," Brittany replies uncertainly. 

"That could kind of suck, but I guess it would be ok with someone you really like playing with," Santana muses. "Like, if I had to deal with that hobbit Berry for forever, I'd hate it. But hanging out with you all the time would be fun." She frowns a moment, brown eyes squinting. "Wait, what about babies? Don't they appear once you're married?"

Her best friend laughs. "No, silly, babies are brought by Santa after people get married. It's not right away, it can take a couple years."

Santana seems to mull it over a moment, before looking at the blonde, peering with questioning eyes. "So, if we got married, Santa would bring us a baby for Christmas?"

Brittany gnaws at her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I think so?"

The small Latina scowls. "Mi abuela says two girls can't get married, but I don't believe her. Boys smell bad and have cooties. Plus abuelita is really mean to me. I'd rather marry a girl any day; they're prettier."

Wincing, Brittany reaches over and extends a pale pinky to wrap around her friend's darker digit. She knows Abuela Lopez is mean, she's seen it first-hand. That grouchy old woman insists on calling Santana "garbage face," and Brittany thinks her best friend is the farthest from having a garbage face. Also, Alma Lopez often starts shrieking in Spanish that Brittany doesn't understand while swinging a wooden spoon at her granddaughter. Santana's mami and papi, Maribel and Carlos, are much nicer. "I'd totally marry you, San."

Santana's face brightens. "Yeah? I'd marry you too, Britt."

Brittany fully wraps their hands together. "So let's get married." 

"Can we?" Santana questions, glancing around the playground. "We're only five years old. And I'm pretty sure weddings are supposed to happen in big churches and stuff with lots of people there."

The blonde shrugs. "If old people can get married, we can too. And lots of people are here and we can dress up!"

Santana grins back. "Meet me at the monkey bars in twenty minutes, k?"

Approximately thirty minutes later, the pair meet under the monkey bars. Brittany has dragged Kurt and Mercedes along with her, while Santana strong-armed Puck and Quinn to come.

Brittany surveys their little crowd. "Wait, we need a minster!"

Mercedes clears her throat and puts a hand on her hip. "Britt, you mean a minister? Cause that's who leads our congregation on Sunday."

Santana practically growls as she glares at Mercedes. "That's what she said, Aretha!"

The dark-skinned girl draws back in fright, then huffs and draws herself up confidently. "Whatever, Lopez, you should feel lucky I'm even here."

The Latina is about to angrily respond when Brittany lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. "San," is all she has to say, and Santana immediately backs down and has a goofy smile cross her tan face. 

Puck, as usual, ruins the moment. He yawns and runs his hand through his dark, little faux-hawk. "Can we get on with this? Recess is over in ten minutes and there's some Cheetos calling my name."

Santana punches his bony shoulder hard. "Worst Best Man ever. Me and Britt-Britt want to get married and all you're thinking about is food."

Quinn slips her hands into her cardigan pockets, eyes wide. "Girls can't marry each other!"

"Oh, shut up, Grace Kelly. We need outfits, and dresses! Where do I even start?" Kurt frets, hovering between Brittany and Santana, sizing them up.

Brittany gets excited and grabs Kurt's arm. "I have my Easter dress! It's so pretty!"

Scowling, Santana crosses her arms. "Lady Hummel, there's no way I'm wearing a dress."

Mercedes takes charge. "Ok, let's all chill. We'll meet back here at tomorrow at recess and everybody be ready."

There are a few grumbles from the group, but everyone agrees just as the playground monitor rounds them up to go back to class as recess has ended.

***************************************

The next day rolls around, and recess is about to start. Quinn corners Santana as the class filters out into the hallway. "Santana, can we talk?" she asks hesitantly. 

The brunette glances at her a moment, and sighs. "Speak, Fabray."

Quinn fidgets a moment before meeting her friend's brown eyes. "I think you and Brittany getting married is wrong. Mommy and Daddy told me girls can't marry girls, and boys can't marry boys."

Santana furrows her brow angrily, "Q, parents aren't always right. Me and Britt are both girls but we really like each other. When she had chicken pox a few months ago, I climbed the tree by her window to see her even though I'm afraid of heights. And yeah she gave me chicken pox, and I itched and itched, but she's still my Brittany."

The blonde rubs the back of her neck awkwardly. "I get that, San, but it's a sin...right?"

The little Latina frowns and grabs her friend's arm. "No, you like who you like. And I like Britt. Your parents are wrong. Just like my abuela."

Quinn lets out a heavy sigh. "Ok, I guess you're right."

Santana stubbornly eyes the other girl. "I'm gonna marry her, whether you like it or not."

"Tana, it's ok, I understand. My parents are wrong. If you and Brittany are getting married, I'll be there," Quinn promises. 

The tiny Latina smiles and wraps her into a hug. "Awesome, Q, be at the monkey bars at afternoon recess, ok?"

The little blonde squeezes back and agrees. "Be there or be square!"

***************************************  
The group has congregated under the monkey bars at afternoon recess. 

"Ok, I'm here to run things," Mercedes announces sassily.

Brittany discreetly whispers into Santana's ear. "I thought this was our wedding?"

The brunette kisses the blonde's freckled cheek. "Just let her talk."

Mercedes clears her throat and sweeps an arm out. "Today, we are here to see Brittany and Santana get married."

Dabbing at his eyes, Kurt chokes back a sob. "This is wonderful."

"There's only fifteen minutes left of recess," Puck announces, eying the open bag of chips at the next table. 

"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," Mercedes continues, taking Brittany's left hand into her right, and Santana's hand into her left. 

"Mmm, chips!" Finn interrupts, stepping into their space and eyeing the Doritos on the table. 

"Go away, Finn!" Quinn shrieks, pushing the boy away. 

Puck steps forward. "You know, I could split those with him."

Santana snaps, balling up her fists at both boys. "You jerks! I'll go all Lima Heights on you both! Me and Britt are trying to get married here. And Puck, you're supposed to be my best man!"

Puck steps back in shock. "Sorry, dude. Ok, you're marrying Brittany."

Mercedes clears her throat, and drops the other girls' hands. "Finn, go away. And obviously Puck was a bad choice. But do you, Santana, take Brittany to be your awfully-wedded wife?"

Kurt glares at her. "Its lawfully married, not awfully married!" he whispers loudly.

With an air of importance, Brittany kisses her best friend on the cheek. "Yes, I awfully marry Santana. She's my wife."

Santana smiles brightly. "Britt Britt is also my wife."

Quinn steps in. "So no one can fight San or Britt?"

The kids all shuffle around, no one saying anything. "Ok, I declare Brittany and Santana wife and wife!"

"Yay!" Brittany squeals, launching herself forward to plant a kiss on her Latina friend's cheek. 

Santana's eyebrows rise and her cheeks redden.


End file.
